


double vision

by pipsqueakparker (lafbaeyette)



Series: clone 'verse [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Clone Sex, First Time Blow Jobs, Gratuitous Ass Eating, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, advanced masturbation, doppleganger, i never expected to write this but here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23926423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafbaeyette/pseuds/pipsqueakparker
Summary: On the outside this fic looks like gratuitous sex with two Bazes & Simon, but on the inside this fic is really all about Baz's self-discovery.--I can’t believe I’ve done this.I’m not sure what I’ve done, actually.But now I’m sat here, propped up against my pillows in my once empty room, staring into an all-too-familiar pair of grey eyes.“What the fuck,” we breathe out in unison, and hearing my own voice outside of my head is jolting. I look for my wand, but it’s still right where I left it on the bedside table. Not that it’s location would have made a difference, it’s not a bloody clicker, I can’t sit on it and accidentally spell myself a clone.--AKA The One Where There Are Two Bazes
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: clone 'verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975954
Comments: 39
Kudos: 246





	double vision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abbynormalj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbynormalj/gifts).



> Another prompt fill for my fic giveaway, and boy howdy, what an interesting one. I encouraged smut and crack fic, and this is what I get out of it, and I'm so glad to have been trusted with this very specific topic. 
> 
> It's clone/doppleganger porn. Just, get yourselves ready. 
> 
> (Also, just saying this upfront, I'm sure there's a very real difference between 'clones' and 'dopplegangers', but for the sake of all things, if you weren't already, let's just accept them being used interchangeably for however long it takes you to read this.) 
> 
> This one was written for [abbynormalj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbynormalj/pseuds/abbynormalj), bless you for the idea. 
> 
> And as always, thank you to [The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff/pseuds/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff) and [annabellelux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabellelux/pseuds/annabellelux) for beta-reading (and an additional thanks to the latter for coming up with the title for this monstrosity).

**BAZ**

I can’t believe I’ve done this. 

I’m not sure what I’ve done, actually. 

But now I’m sat here, propped up against my pillows in my once empty room, cock in hand, staring into an all-too-familiar pair of grey eyes. 

“What the fuck,” we breathe out in unison, and hearing my own voice outside of my head is jolting. I look for my wand, but it’s still right where I left it on the bedside table. Not that it’s location would have made a difference, it’s not a bloody clicker, I can’t sit on it and accidentally spell myself a clone. 

Except… something along those lines _has_ happened now. Because I’m staring at another _me_ standing at the end of my bed, and he’s watching me with piercing eyes. It only takes me a moment to realize his eyes are on my cock, and I wonder how many laws of nature this is breaking. 

“My eyes are up here,” I snap, before realizing that I’m essentially snapping at myself. Either way his eyes ( _my eyes_ ) shoot back up to meet mine and he slowly lifts a brow. I huff and roll my eyes. “Crowley, that is annoying, isn’t it?” 

“How did you manage this?” He asks. 

“I haven't the slightest,” I admit, because I suppose I can admit this to _myself._ “As you can see, I was rather preoccupied.” 

His eyes trail back down my body and I squirm under his gaze, even though I suppose I shouldn’t. It’s just… me. 

“I am properly fit, aren’t I?” He muses, and we both huff a laugh in unison. “This may be the most conceited thing one could do, but…”

He trails off, but I know exactly where he’s going. I don’t know if it’s some strange clone telepathy, or just the natural progression of events, but I nod my head quickly and he lowers himself to the bed. 

When the other me appeared he was wearing my — our? — Watford uniform. I, however, am wearing significantly less. He slips off his blazer as he sits and makes quick work of his shirt buttons; now we’re almost even. 

Is it weird to let your own magickal clone jerk you off? Or is it an advanced form of masturbation? No one’s really studied the idea of magickal doppelgängers, especially since there’ve been more pressing questions to answer. Does this count as magickal research? I should probably figure out how we _got_ here, if it is — 

“ _Ah,_ fuck.” He wraps a hand around me and it feels familiar _and_ foreign. It’s like that ‘trick’ the older boys used to spread around when I was young, to sit on your own hand before wanking. Only now I know that’s definitely my hand, but this is an entirely new angle. Crowley, this is…

“Weird,” the other me breathes. Yes, that exactly. 

“Stop thinking about it.” It’s a command for both of us. “This is strange, but it’s an opportunity.”

“I’ll be the first man to get to know first hand whether or not I’m a good shag,” he says, voicing a thought I’d definitely had at the back of my mind, but I wasn’t going to _say_ it. Or, I guess I was, just not through my own mouth. 

“ _And,_ this is a magickal anomaly, imagine if we learned how this works. Crowley, are you just a hornier version of me?” 

Rather than answer me he dips his head down and takes me into his mouth, and if _that_ isn’t an entirely new but completely welcome sensation. I suppose that is an answer in itself. 

I swear as he sinks lower on my cock, fitting even more of me into his mouth — who knew I had the capacity to swallow my own prick? Who knew I knew _how_ to swallow a prick? The wet heat of his mouth around me is _good_ , it feels like there are sparks shooting up my spine as he bobs his head, hollows his cheeks out and works over my length. For a moment, I let my eyes fall shut and pretend it’s Snow on my cock instead. I swear I’ve almost convinced myself of the illusion until I reach down and find my fingers sinking into my own hair rather than a head of thick curls. At least that conditioner has proven to be worth every penny — this is exactly what I’d want Snow to feel if I were blowing him. 

_Are you kidding? Literally getting blown by another bloke and he’s still all I think of?_

I try to recentre my thoughts, the thoughts that aren’t already melting down into _ohfuckohshitohyes_ at least. There must be something to that clone telepathy idea because the other me seems to be redoubling his efforts. He pulls back and runs the flat of his tongue over my length before wrapping his lips around my crown, and it feels so _good_ and _too much_ and _not enough_. My hips rock up of their own volition and my fingers tighten in his hair, which only pulls a groan from deep in his chest that rocks its way back through me. 

I should’ve known pulling his hair was a good idea, it’s definitely appeared in my fantasies. As I said earlier, this _is_ an opportunity… 

I pull harder and elicit another moan from both of us, and he sinks lower as I tug again. _Fuck_ , I give good head. A good fucking quality to know about myself, and obviously I ignore that this is not only my first blowie but it’s being performed by _myself._

I feel familiar callouses rough against my hips as he grabs me, pulls my hips toward him, groans again as I rock my hips against his face. What — 

“— _the fuck, Baz_?!”

My eyes snap open and I make direct eye contact with Simon Snow as a high whine slips out of my throat. My face is burning, and I look down to see my _other_ face flushed as well. (Well, as flushed as I can get, which is a barely noticeable tinge of pink in my cheeks.) He’s pulled off of me and buried his face in my hip, but I still feel every puff of his breath over my cock which is wet from his spit. It’s a sensation I file away, but I’m trying extraordinarily hard to glare at Snow through my lust. 

Snow is still standing in the ( _open_ ) doorway, mouth agape and not seeming a bit ashamed to be gawking at the scene before him. 

“Are you planning to leave or come in?” 

_Fuck_ , that’s not what I meant to say. Or, not how I meant to say it. I hope it came out harshly enough for him to know it’s not a true invitation. _Is it?_

No, fucking my own face is strange enough without the added element of Simon Snow _watching._ (Heat twists low in my belly at the thought, and I try to tell myself it’s unrelated.) (I thought I was a better liar than this.) 

**SIMON**

Coming back to the room to find Baz here is bad enough after the day I’ve had, running around for the Mage on the hunt for something he refused to tell me anything about. I’m thoroughly knackered and all I want to do is take a shower and let the hot water wash away the dirt and grime of another mission. 

Coming back to the room to find Baz with his prick shoved down some poor girl’s throat is another level of awful. I never needed to know what Baz did or looked like in his most intimate moments. It only takes me another moment to register the shirtless figure hunched over Baz’s lap, as well as their lack of breasts and the undeniable tent in their own trousers. 

Coming back to the room to find Baz with his prick shoved down some poor _bloke’s_ throat is…

“ _What the fuck, Baz_?!”

His eyes open and he makes a strangled, high pitched noise when he looks at me. I feel the heat rising to my cheeks, the embarrassment of walking in on Baz _in the act_ settling down to my bones. The other bloke doesn’t turn around, just keeps his head down. Probably embarrassed to be caught sucking the most pretentious _prick_ at Watford. I know I would be. 

_Wait. No._

“Are you planning to leave or come in?” 

My face feels hotter, the blush crawling down my neck. Did Baz just _invite me in_? Is this a _challenge_? 

I open my mouth to answer, but no verbal response comes out. I shut it again. 

And then the other bloke _does_ turn around and my mouth falls open yet again. 

“ _T-two_?! There’re two of you now?!” 

In front of Baz is… _Baz_. An exact replica of Baz, or… another Baz entirely? I was having enough of a time wrapping my head around the idea of Baz shagging someone, then Baz shagging a _bloke_ (that’s well gay, is Baz gay?), but now Baz has… been shagging himself? 

“Shut the door, Snow.” The first Baz hisses, the one who’s prick is no longer hidden behind the other Baz’s body. It’s full out and on display, he’s _completely_ starkers, and I tear my eyes away from it and shut the door behind me. I don’t step any further into the room. 

“What the fuck is going on?” I can’t look at the other Baz either, his lower body may be covered but he’s sitting there with no shirt and a mess of spit along his chin. Because he was just sucking the other off. _Merlin_. I stare squarely at the edge of the headboard the naked Baz is leaning up against. “Why are there two of you? What are you doing — what are you _plotting_?”

“I think even a gormless dolt like you can piece together what I was doing.” This comes from the shirtless Baz. I can’t tell which one is my roommate, they’re both absolute tossers. 

“I — but why — what is — _why are there two of you_?” I don’t like that I’ve devolved to a sputtering mess, but _what the hell_? Naked Baz hasn’t even made a _move_ to cover himself, like he’s relishing in my complete discomfort. Of course he is. They _both_ are. “Did you — did you make a magickal copy of yourself just to get off? I knew you were a narcissist but…” 

“Big vocabulary word there, Snow,” Naked Baz sneers. Shirtless Baz fucking _smirks_ , and this is the worst thing that could’ve happened. One Baz was bad enough. One Baz already felt like the world’s most awful prison sentence. But _two_?! Two, apparently _well_ randy, Bazes?! 

“I’m going to the Mage.” 

“ _What?_ ” Shirtless Baz says, at the same time Naked Baz spits, “You most certainly are _not_.” 

“Why not? You’re up to something! You’re… you’re doing something weird with magic, and it can’t be legal! Either tell me what you’re up to or I’m going to the Mage!” 

The answer comes from both of them, in unison. “For magic’s sake, Snow, I was just _wanking_!” 

Wanking _? Baz Pitch was_ wanking _?_

Something about the sentence just doesn’t compute. I’d never really been faced with the idea of Baz as a sexual entity before, but now he’s sitting in front of me with a raging hard-on — _two_ raging hard-ons, technically. 

I suppose he is pretty fit. Objectively. He’s got nice eyes, and he’s incredibly toned… everywhere. I’d never seen much of his body before this moment, really just peeks of his thighs and stomach during football matches. 

He’s got nice thighs, too. 

Again, if we’re speaking objectively, I guess he’s got a pretty good body. He’s all limb, long legs stretched out in front of him as he leans back against the headboard. He’s even got bloody perfect chest hair, not too much to be unruly but enough of a patch there to be right sexy. 

_Did I just think of Baz as sexy? Is that gay?_

Objectively. Baz is _objectively_ sexy. Just because I’m straight doesn’t mean I can’t recognize and appreciate when another bloke is fit, right? Especially not when they’ve got their dick out _right_ in front of me, and they’re still sporting a stiffy. Just, right in my line of sight. Glaring me in the face, almost. How am I expected to _not_ have mildly queer thoughts in this moment? I’ve a fit, _naked_ roommate who’s made a magickal copy of himself! 

_Merlin_. 

“Take a picture, Snow, it’ll last longer.” Shirtless Baz hisses. I almost take him up on it, before I realize I’ve nothing to take a picture with. _Also, I certainly wouldn’t_ want _that, would I?_

“Honestly, Snow,” Naked Baz sighs now. “I never took you for such a prude, could you just…”

“‘M not a prude,” I mumble. Because I’m not, if a bloke fancies a wank he should have one, it’s just… 

It’s awfully suspicious is all. I tell him as much and they both roll their eyes emphatically. 

“It’s suspicious that I want to get off?” 

“It’s suspicious that you’ve a doppelgänger! This is the most outrightly suspicious thing you’ve done, Baz, how do I know that you won’t start plotting my demise as soon as you’ve finished?” 

“Crowley, Snow, what — would you like to _supervise_ and make sure that’s all we do?” 

I think we’re _all_ shocked by the answer that actually comes out of my mouth. 

“Yes.” 

**BAZ**

_Yes._

Simon Snow just said he wanted to _watch me masturbate_. 

_Crowley_. 

“Are you...? Really?” 

Snow juts his chin out. It’s entirely too attractive. 

“Yes.” I’m not sure I would’ve caught the waver in his voice if I wasn’t so intimately familiar with it. He does well enough at covering it, but he still doesn’t move any further into the room. 

I can't be the one to cave here. 

“Suit yourself, Snow.” 

I reach out for the other me, grabbing his face in both hands and pulling it to mine. Perhaps I can make him uncomfortable enough to crack, to leave us alone so we can finish this. 

Looking into my own eyes is mad, so I squeeze them shut and press our mouths together. If it weren’t for how cold our lips are, I could perhaps pretend it’s Snow that I’m kissing instead. Not that I’m not proving to be excellent with my mouth in many new ways, but the idea that my first kiss is with my own doppelgänger? 

The sound of Snow clearing his throat and shuffling near the door is enough to make this worth it. My fingers slip into the other Baz’s hair, pulling him even closer, and I feel his hand return to my still aching cock. (I’m somehow even harder after Simon’s entrance.) I try to hold back a moan at the contact, but think better of it when I remember our audience. If we’re giving Snow a show, we may as well make it a good one. 

**SIMON**

Merlin, Morgana, and Methuselah. 

He’s really going to do it, _they’re_ really going to do it. Even with me standing right the fuck here. 

Naked Baz’s hands are tangled up in Shirtless Baz’s hair, while Shirtless Baz’s hand has made its way right back to — 

_Right in front of me_! 

Baz’s moan carries across the room, I’m really not sure which one it comes from, but Merlin, it’s loud. It feels like my face is on fire, and as another sound slips into the air I also feel a similar sensation in my gut. I’m embarrassed to my _core_ , it would seem, because my roommate-slash-nemesis appears to have no problem getting off with me watching. 

I expected the idea of me staying would put this all to an end, but I suppose I shouldn’t have underestimated the lengths Baz would go to to prove me wrong and embarrass me. 

Well, I’m certainly not going to be the one to back down. I can’t let him know that it’s working. If he wants to get off with some clone he’s magicked up for himself then so be it, I will just… 

Do some schoolwork. I suppose. 

I take a few steps further into the room, set my bookbag on top of my desk. Try to tune out the unmistakable sounds of lips clashing and Baz’s pleasure. I press my hands flat on the desk, take a breath and ignore the flames that lick their way down my spine with every breathless sound that leaves Baz’s throat. 

“Oh, _fuck_.” 

That one sounds almost pained and I look over my shoulder against my better judgement. Shirtless Baz has since lost his trousers as well, and is lying on his belly between Naked Baz’s legs, Baz’s thighs at either side of his head and his face buried in Baz’s arse. 

_Jesus Christ._ (I think witnessing your roommate grinding their arse against their doppelgänger’s face warrants a flood of Normal swears.) 

I make a strangled noise and turn away again, but the _noises_. Everything’s wet and breathy and _loud,_ it feels like Baz’s sounds are echoing throughout the room, as if he spelled the walls to have better acoustics. (Or would these be worse acoustics? I never did understand the difference.) (Baz would know, of course.) I wouldn’t put it past him, either, the tosser. After all, he spelled himself a _fucking clone_. 

I squeeze my eyes shut and lean further over my desk, like maybe if I focus hard enough I can just block it all out. It’s hard, and with every depraved sound Baz makes I feel that burning in my belly grow. I’m not a prude, like Baz thought. I didn’t think I’d be embarrassed this badly, but there’s a difference between the general idea of sex and listening to someone have it. 

The _too-hot-burning_ feeling in my belly is spreading, tendrils of fire and electricity shooting up my back, down my legs, even to my fucking fingertips. I’m hot all over, I wanna crawl out of my skin, I wanna — 

As I lean further over the desk I press against the desk chair as well, my hips flush against it and — _oh_. 

Another choked sound escapes me, only this time it isn’t from embarrassment. I press my hips forward again, almost as an experiment, and — _oh_ , _Merlin_ , yes that’s definitely what I think it is. I’d been so caught up in Baz and Baz’s acts, I hadn’t even noticed my own… _growing_ _interest_. 

If thinking of Baz as sexy was potentionally gay, I’m not sure where getting a hard-on from listening to two blokes shagging would land. 

I don’t think I’m interested in thinking about it anymore. 

**BAZ**

I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, so I must say we are putting on quite the show for Simon Snow. He’s had his back to us since he finally came into the room, standing at his desk and leaning heavily on his hands. I’ve been trying to get him to turn around, to watch us again, and he finally did after I swore as my doppelgänger dipped his tongue into me. That one honestly wasn’t part of the plan. I’ve dabbled in penetration on my own, just bare brushes of fingers over my hole mostly, but the feeling of something actually _inside me_ was better than I could’ve imagined. 

He keeps pressing his tongue into me and I press my hips down, against his face, reveling in the sensations as he works.

I keep my eyes on Snow. I’m not sure he even realizes it, _his_ eyes were focused further south when he looked, and now he’s turned away again. He’s stubborn, he’s not going to leave after all. 

Snow’s been mostly quiet this entire time, he did make a surprised sort of sound when he looked at us just now, but other than that he’s been silent. So, it takes me by surprise when I hear a whimper that’s not coming from either me or my doppelgänger. I had admittedly lost my focus on Snow for just a moment, when the other Baz grabbed the backs of my thighs to lift my hips even higher and somehow licked even _deeper_ into me. 

When I look back at him he’s still turned away from us, but he’s slowly rocking his hips against the chair at his desk.

_Is he—?_

Another heavy grunt crosses the room, my doppelgänger and I exchange a look. (I’m too invested in this new information to properly care about the abnormality of making eye contact with my own face buried in my arse.) (But I’m not too proud to admit that if someone _else_ had this view he would be lucky.) 

But I have to focus on the matter at hand. 

_Snow is turned on by this._ He must be, his hips start pushing forward with a little more force each time, and he finally claps a hand over his own mouth to muffle a groan. 

“Snow.” His hips stop immediately. The back of his neck is red, but I’m not sure if that’s from being horny or embarrassed. Perhaps both. I try again. “ _Snow._ ” 

He still doesn’t turn, but it sounds like he’s speaking through clenched teeth. “What, Baz?” 

I swallow. Maybe this is a bad idea, but my brain is too addled with lust and want to care at this point. I’m almost hoping his is, too. 

“Do you want some help with that?” 

**SIMON**

This is the most mortifying experience of my entire life. I want to crawl under my blankets and hide for the rest of time. But now that I’ve recognized my erection I’ve given it power, and all I want is to shove my hand in my pants and pull myself off. 

Or…

“ _No_.” I snap, mostly at myself I think. Because it’s suddenly too easy to imagine Baz’s stupidly long fingers wrapped around me, or his stormy eyes looking up at me from beneath his stupidly long eyelashes as he takes me into his mouth. I can _hear_ the bloody smirk on his face and it makes my jaw clench. 

“Come on, Snow,” he drawls, ending on a gasp and I have to keep myself from turning to find out what made him make that sound. “Turns out I give spectacular head.” 

“Why would you do that?” I finally look at him over my shoulder, and Merlin, a bad call. My cock twitches at the sight, his lean, _naked_ body spread out across his bed as Shirtless Baz is still going at it between his legs. He’s watching me, eyes dark and lidded. He lifts a hand to beckon me over. I try to snarl, but I’m not sure how convincing it is. “What’d be in it for you?” 

“Apart from a mouthful of Chosen One cock?” 

Those words shouldn’t be as hot coming from his mouth as they are. He’s got no right. 

It’s not so much a sudden realization, more of a slowly dawning thought, when I become aware of just how much I want this. Baz Pitch is infuriating and evil, but he’s right fit and sexy as hell, too. And he seems to want this, too, so maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea. The situation is already properly bizarre, what with the two Bazes, one more oddity won’t break anything. 

I swallow, my throat and mouth feel dry, and turn toward his bed. There’s a flash of what I think may be surprise when I step up next to his bed, but he quickly masks it again. 

“Take it out then, Snow.” 

I don’t think I could ever tell Penny about this. 

**BAZ**

If I thought shagging a magickal doppelgänger was going to be the most surreal part of my day, I don’t know what to think about Simon Snow pulling his cock out for me. 

It’s almost like it’s happening in slow motion. The other Baz is taking one of my bollocks into his mouth, another unexpected but absolutely welcome experience, and the mattress is shifting beneath us as he rocks his hips into it. 

But the whole time I’m watching Snow. Watching his shaky hands as he undoes his trousers, pushing them just past his hips and revealing the prominent bulge in his boxers. He hesitates for just a moment before pushing his pants down as well, and there it is. Simon Snow’s glorious cock, flushed and hard and I think my mouth starts watering on sight. I don’t frequently allow myself these kinds of fantasies, where I’m doing the filthiest things imaginable to Snow, but I may not have a choice after this. After he finally lets me entertain all of my twisted daydreams. 

I reach out for him, hike up a side of his shirt to skip my hand under it. Curve my fingers around his hip. His skin is so _warm_ , which isn’t unexpected. It’s also soft, smooth. Even with his constant running around for the Mage he’s plumper here. (We’re well into the school year, he’s finally eating enough again, unlike his summers.) I watch his flesh give beneath the pressure of my thumb, the dip of his skin just above his hip bone. 

His chin dips, a shuddering breath rushing through his open lips. I urge him closer, readjust myself until I can reach him without interfering with my doppelgänger’s passion project below me. (What I have learned today is that I give great head, I’m a fairly decent kisser, and I eat ass like a god.) 

The sound that Snow makes when I take him into my mouth has me grinding my hips down against the other me’s face, which in turn has me moaning around the head of Snow’s cock. My own whines and groans echo through my body, rumbling from my chest and also vibrating up my spine as my doppelgänger presses each groan into my skin. 

He’s started working me open with his tongue again, one of his hands wrapping around my leaking cock. He keeps a rhythm between his mouth and hand, I try to match it as I bob on Snow’s cock. 

I’m already too close. The heat between my legs is growing, muscles tensing. I want this to last longer, but I’m rocketing towards the edge with no say. 

**SIMON**

Baz was right. I hate that he’s always right, but he takes my prick in his mouth like a seasoned expert. No hesitations, no faltering. I briefly wonder if he _is_ a seasoned expert, but I have to let that thought go. No, that thought gets expelled from me on a wave of moans that I can’t hold in when Baz takes me as deep as he can. 

I think I should be more concerned with the idea of a vampire sucking my dick, all those fangs near all that blood, but Baz’s mouth — Baz’s _tongue_ — makes it hard to hold a thought at all. 

He keeps making noises around me as well, which somehow feels even better. I squeezed my eyes shut at some point, but I open them again now to look down at him. His eyes are screwed shut, brows furrowed in an unmistakable look of concentration. (He makes a similar face when he’s revising.) (I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be in the room while Baz is revising again.) 

One of his hands is still gripping my hip, I wouldn’t be surprised if he managed to leave a bruise. He wraps the other around the base of my cock, working at what he can’t reach with his mouth as he pulls back. He swipes the flat of his tongue over my slit and the whimper I make would be well embarrassing if I could find the capacity to care. 

Shirtless Baz is still between his legs, though he’s also stroking Baz’s cock now. (If it is possible for a cock to be pretty, Baz’s is.) He’s been grinding his own hips against the mattress, the frame of the bed creaking with the movement. 

_Which Baz is the original Baz?_

Baz lets go of my hip, his hand falling down to tangle in Shirtless Baz’s hair. 

_Is it_ Baz _sucking me off, or his doppelgänger?_

He tugs and _both_ of them grunt. 

_I wonder if they’d come at the same time…_

He hollows his cheeks, pulling back, and I find my own hand coming up to cup the back of his head. I remember the way he pulled the other Baz’s hair, how they seemed to like that, and I don’t know when I became concerned with what Baz _likes_ but I pull experimentally. 

It’s a hit. Baz _mewls_ around my prick, and when I do it again he’s even louder. 

All of the sounds he’s been making, every gasp and whimper that Shirtless Baz has pulled out of him, _I_ want to make him sound like that. 

“ _Baz_.” He opens his eyes and looks at me and I gasp, just a bit. I didn’t realize how much I wanted to see that, his eyes cutting up to me as his mouth is wrapped around my prick. I’m suddenly becoming aware of a whole list of things I’d like to see and do to Baz, do _with_ Baz. I don’t know where they’re coming from, but I do know which one is the most pressing. “C-can I touch you?” 

His nod is nearly imperceptible, but he hums around me, too, and that gets the point across. He also likes that idea. 

I end up wrapping my hand around Shirtless Baz’s, mimicking his movement and following his rhythm until he finally lets go and I’m fairly certain he’s reaching down to touch himself. That’s when my attention’s pulled from watching Baz on me, to watching the other Baz on _him_. 

Shirtless Baz runs the flat of his tongue over Naked Baz’s hole, making the other shudder and rock up into my hand. He’s rocking into his own hand, hips moving quickly as he continues the ministrations with his mouth. 

I’m so enthralled in watching each of them, I’m caught off guard by my own orgasm. I don’t have time to warn Baz, I barely have time to warn _myself_ before I’m almost doubled over and spilling down Baz’s throat. I lose the rhythm I’d had while stroking him, but I feel the other Baz’s hand return to take care of that. 

I’ve barely had the chance to breathe before both of Baz’s hands are clutching the fabric of my shirt, pulling me down until our mouths crash together. It’s mostly teeth and tongue and it’s not great but it’s _perfect_. I can taste myself, which is weird but I’m also kind of into it. I’m reaching back down to stroke his cock, Baz’s hips are snapping up into my hand and back onto his doppelgänger’s mouth, and his tongue is in _my_ mouth. 

Nothing about this makes sense, but it all feels so _good_. It feels perfect, it feels _right_. 

Then Baz is panting harder against my lips, a series of whimpers and whines passing between us until I feel his body tense beneath me. And he’s spilling over his belly and my hand, gripping at my shoulders as I continue working him through it. 

Baz doesn’t stop snogging me after he’s done. If anything, he’s redoubling his efforts now that he’s not got the distraction of an impending orgasm. His hands are in my hair and I’m cupping the side of his face with my clean hand. 

We don’t pull apart until we hear a sizzling in the air, followed by a quick _pop_. When I open my eyes and look at the bed again, it’s just Baz. Naked Baz. The other one is gone, no evidence that he’d even been there. (Apart from a telling wet spot lower on Baz’s sheets.) 

“What—” I turn back to look at him. “How did you—?” 

Somehow Baz looks just as confused as I am. “I— I didn’t.” 

“You— but then— how— ?”

“I didn’t conjure him, he just…” Baz trails off, staring at the spot where the other Baz had been. “I… I genuinely don’t know what the fuck that was.” 

“But—”

“Simon.” Baz looks at me, and I don’t think he’s ever called me Simon before. It’s certainly thrown me for a moment. “Can we try to figure out the doppelgänger mystery later? I’d much rather continue snogging.” 

I nod, because he makes a fair point. There’s always time to look into what happened, but I’m not sure how long this strange bubble we’ve created will last. 

Part of me hopes it’ll be a fixture now, but just in case. I climb onto the bed, taking the other Baz’s place between his legs, stretching out across him until I bring our lips together in a softer kiss this time. 

I don’t know what’s happened today, but I don’t want to think about it too hard. Thankfully, Baz’s lips kill everything I’m thinking. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you can still look me in the eye after reading that, you can come talk to me on tumblr: [@pipsqueakparker](https://pipsqueakparker.tumblr.com)


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